The Matchmaker's Gift(4)
“Shh,” he snapped. “Lower your voice.” He pushed the velvet box farther in her direction. “Don’t you want to open the present I bought you?” His smile was flashy and rehearsed, making him look more like a television anchorman than her father.
“Fine,” he admitted when she didn’t answer. “Yes, I’ve asked your mother for a divorce.” Abby reached for her sister’s hand and squeezed it under the table while he continued. “Sometimes married people don’t stay married, but that doesn’t mean that anyone is to blame. I’ll always be your father. We’ll always be a family.”
“Are you going to move out?”
“I’m going to get my own apartment,” he said. “The two of you will live with your mom during the week, and you’ll come stay with me every other weekend.”
Abby decided not to protest—at least for now. Hannah’s face had crumpled, her blue eyes had grown teary, and Abby didn’t want to make her more upset. Hannah hated to be the center of attention. She would never want a room full of strangers to see her cry. Abby knew that was the reason for this outing. Her father was too much of a coward to deliver bad news to his daughters in private.
Outside the restaurant, Hannah whimpered. “My tummy hurts,” she said, before heaving the contents of her stomach onto the pocked cement sidewalk. Passersby walked around them to avoid the mess. Their mother took a clean tissue from her purse, wiped Hannah’s mouth, and pulled her close. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” she whispered. “Let’s get you home.” Their father hailed a taxi, but once his wife and daughters were inside, he told them he would walk back to their apartment. “I need some fresh air,” he said with a shrug.
Abby thought all of them could use some fresh air. But the girls and their mother were trapped in the back of the foul-smelling cab, while her father wandered free beneath the cool city skies. The walk should have taken him an hour, at most, but he didn’t come home until the whole day had passed. When he came into Abby’s room to say good night, she pretended to be asleep. He bent over to kiss her forehead, reeking of vodka, cigarettes, and that strange perfume she couldn’t forget.
The months that followed were filled with unpleasant surprises: the process server lurking outside their apartment building; Thanksgiving dinner without their father, who canceled mysteriously at the last minute; a Sunday breakfast with him at their favorite diner, interrupted by the musky smell that hit Abby’s nostrils like a punch in the stomach. “Girls,” her father said, holding the tall, blond woman’s hand, “this is Tanja.”
A week before their Christmas break, their mother sat them across from her, eyes red from lack of sleep. Beverly chewed at her lower lip. “We’re going to have to make some changes,” she said.
“What kind of changes?” Hannah asked, in a voice so shaky that it made Abby’s heart ache. Wasn’t it enough that their father had left? How many more changes would there be?
Beverly sank deep into her cowl-neck sweater, retreating from the unpleasant truth. “It will take time to figure everything out, but I’m going to have to go back to work. I’m meeting with my old boss at the travel agency tomorrow.”
Abby had always enjoyed listening to her mother reminisce about her career: the vacations she had booked for her clients, the family trips, the exotic honeymoons. One day, her mother used to say, we’ll take you girls on an adventure. We’ll fly first-class and stay at a five-star hotel. They’ll serve us champagne and put mints on our pillows and the beds will be so soft that we’ll never want to leave. Abby knew that before she was born, her mother had enjoyed working in travel. When she’d spoken about her days at the agency, her cheeks had been flushed and her voice had risen with excitement. But Beverly didn’t seem excited now—only paler than usual, listless, and tired. The only good news was that their grandmother would be arriving soon. Grandma Sara had moved to Florida before Abby was born, but she was coming to New York to stay for a while.
The next day, when their father picked them up for the weekend, Abby and Hannah were less talkative than usual. They hadn’t seen him for two full weeks, and though he’d promised to telephone every night, his calls had tapered off to every third day.
“You two don’t seem very happy to see me,” he sulked. As he led them down the hallway toward the elevator bank, Abby realized that he looked different. He wore a tan corduroy sports jacket, a soft plaid scarf, and shoes she’d never seen before. His hair, which he usually had trimmed every three weeks, had grown shaggier in the front and around his ears. “Your hair is long,” Abby said, tilting her head and staring up at him.
“Yeah, well, that’s the way men wear their hair these days.”
“I’ve never seen you wear a scarf before.”
“Since when do you care so much about my appearance?” he snapped, jamming his thumb against the elevator button. “Tanja helped me pick out some new clothes, okay?”
“Sure,” Abby answered. “Your shoes are nice.” She didn’t want to be critical, but then she thought about Tuesday afternoon, when Hannah’s ballet slippers wouldn’t fit, and their mother looked as if she might burst into tears. She hadn’t said why, but Abby knew: their mother had been worried about the cost of replacing them.